The Potioneer's Bride
by ArisBlack
Summary: Severus Snape and Hermione Granger get married after the war. But is their marriage happy? Based, (a little bit) on the poem, The Farmer's Bride, by Charlotte Mew. Oneshot. Complete.


This is just something I had an idea for after doing the poem, The Farmer's Bride in English. It's just an idea, and I'm not sure how good it , I'm really sorry I haven't updated The Clever Freak in ages, I'm suffering from writer's block. Anyways, you have this. Have fun, and please **review**!

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He looked at her from the top of the stairs. It had been three years since that fateful day, when they were forced to marry. It had been part of the end of the war; all the Death Eaters not married were required to marry a Muggleborn. Many did not want to but all of them were forcibly matched up. He had been one of the luckier ones; he had been matched with Hermione Granger. Whereas once she had had overhanging front teeth, making her resemble a chipmunk, the incident in her fourth year had allowed her to get her teeth shortened so they were now a normal length. Her frizzy hair had softened and her hair now fell down her back in soft waves.

He felt sorry for her. She still bore the scar from her stay at Malfoy Manor, that horrendous word, Mudblood, carved into her arm for all eternity. After the war, she had closed off from everyone except for her closest friends, and it had only got worse after they had gotten married. The only stipulation forced upon them was that they had to have a child within the first five years of their marriage. It had been three years, and they had not yet done as much as share a bed. He could well understand her reluctance; he was not the sort of husband she had dreamed of for her entire life.

His hair was too greasy, his teeth too yellow and crooked. His age would have been enough of a turnoff, let alone the fact that he had once been her most hated teacher. Now she preferred the company of potions, and charms. He knew she was training to become a Potions and Charms Mistress, and he hoped the best for her. He knew that she was certainly clever enough to do it on her own, no matter how much he sometimes wanted to help her. They never spoke, and the only time they were in a room together was when they had meals. They both had separate brewing rooms, and he sometimes heard a potion blow up, or a charm backfire, and while he would linger in the doorway to make sure she was alright, he knew that there was no need as she was perfectly capable.

One day however, she didn't come down for breakfast. He stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to her bedroom, never having been allowed to go into the loft room that she had immediately claimed for herself. He called, but she didn't answer. He cast, 'Homenum Revelio', which quickly revealed that he was the only one in the house. He went downstairs quickly to check if she had left a note, which they always did if they were going to leave. There was none, which left two options; either she had been kidnapped or she had run away. He knew that she was a more than capable witch, which mean that the kidnapping option was very unlikely. Which only left one. That she had run away.

He sighed in resignation. He knew something like this would occur. Why after three years, when she was so close to finishing her Masteries, he didn't know, but he knew that he needed to find her. The first place he checked was the Boy-Who-Lived's house. He knelt in front of the fireplace and threw some Floo powder in.

"Harry Potter" he called out and stuck his head in. His head reappeared in the other man's fireplace.

"Potter." He called out. The Boy-Who-Lived came out to his living room.

"What do you want, Snape." He snapped.

Snape sighed. "Have you seen my wife?" he asked.

"No. Should I have?" Harry replied.

"I just thought you might have. Never mind then," he withdrew his head before Potter had a chance to reply. He knew there was one more place she could be, and this time he stepped through the fireplace.

"Hermione!" He called, as he stepped through to Ron Weasley's house. "I know you're here."

The red headed dunce came through the door. "Snape!" he shouted. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Looking for my wife." Snape snapped brusquely.

The Weasel flinched. "S-she's not here."

"Don't lie to me. I know she is." He moved towards the door. "Move."

The red hair didn't move an inch. Snape just kept moving and blasted through him. He burst through the door, and came face to face with Hermione, who was standing still with one foot on the first step of the stairs.

His face softened. "Come on Hermione, come back."

She mutely shook her head.

"Hermione, please."

A frightened look passed over her face before she took her foot off the step and walked towards him. He took a step back and let her pass before following her. She went through the Floo silently and he followed her. When he got home, she was nowhere to be seen. He sat down heavily in the armchair, and buried his face in his hands. His wife was terrified of him, and he had no friends. Perhaps it would have been best if everything had gone to plan and he hadn't survived the war.


End file.
